This composition is based and inspired by the short story 'An Imperial Message' by Franz Kafka
The Emperor—so it is said—has sent you, you in particular, wretched subject, fading shadow, fleeing from the imperial sun into far distant lands, to you alone the Emperor has, on his deathbed, sent a message. He ordered the messenger to kneel down beside his bed and whispered the message into his ear. Such importance was it to him that he had the messenger whisper it back into his ear again. With a nod of his head he confirmed that what had been said was right. And in front of all the spectators of his death—all obstructing walls were being knocked down, and on the flight of steps sweeping high and wide the nobles of the empire are standing in a ring—before all these he dispatched the messenger. The messenger sets off on his journey at once; a strong tireless man, he thrusts out one arm, and then the other to clear a path for himself through the crowd; when he meets resistence, he points to his chest where he bears the sign of the sun and he advances with ease like no other. But the crowd is so vast; its dwelling places are infinite. If only there were an open field, how he would fly, and soon no doubt you would be hearing the glorious beating of his fists on your door. But instead how vain is his progress; he is still only forcing his way through the chambers of the inner palace; he will never get through them; and if he succeeded in that, he would have gained nothing; he must fight his way down the staircase; and if he succeeded in that, he would have gained nothing; there are the courtyards to be crossed and after the courtyards the second palace surrounding them; and the more staircases and courtyards; and yet another palace; and so on for thousands of years; and if at last he should burst through the outermost gate—but never, never could this bee— the capital still lies before him the center of the world, immersed deeply in its own rubble. No one could force his way through here, even with a message from a dead man. But you sit at your window and dream it to yourself — when evening comes.
Additional filmtracks on
kengravings.szemzo.org
released December 29, 2017
consultant
András Forgách
The Narrators (in order of their appearance):
Liz Szász, Ray Massey, Tibor Szemző, Rasha Qandeel, Thierry Fouilleul, Jahanara Bandyopadhyay, Paul [Herschl] Glasser, Josef Brukner, Jose Osete, Gaya Arutyunyan, Kaori Takano, Wilhelm Droste, Gergely Kispál, Gün Togay, Aleem Siddiqui, Karma Dorje
The Musicians (in order of their appearance):
Mihály Huszár - electric double bass, bassguitar
Tibor Szemző - flutes
Bálint Pödör - percussions
The Tomasini String Quartet
László Paulik, Erzsébet Rácz, Éva Posvanecz, Balázs Máté
Gergely Kuklis - violin
Zoltán Mizsei - keyboards
Zsombor Dudás - percussions
László Kéringer - voice
László Gőz - seashells
T. Bali - rugophone
Sound recording: Alexander Krestovský, Gábor Buckó, Károly Liszkai, Alois Samson
Mixed by Károly Liszkai & Alois Samson
Futterbasis and HR studios [2010-2017]
Sea sounds were recorded at Yucatan, Mexico, 1st January 1990 by Alois Samson
The recordings were made in Prague, Budapest, New York and London
Track A6 is based on Fantasia No.7 in C minor by Henry Purcell
special thanks to
Caroline Bodóczky, Andás Böröcz, Dr. Jonathan Brent, Otilia Cseicsner, Hermann Erbst, József Gáli, Gábor Gyémánt, Pavel Havliček, László Hortobágyi, Hana Irshid, Vladimir Kafka, Suzanne & Csaba Kiss, Szonja Ráchel Komoróczy, Miklós Lojkó, Dr. Bandara Mukherjee, Phill Niblock, Zoltán Regenye, Tibor Solténszky, Gerd Stern Ferenc Török, Tamás Zányi and others
additional filmtracks on
kengravings.szemzo.org
S-Bahn - Finnish Message Charlottenburg 02:49
The Sanatorium - Chinese Message Kierling 03:21
Dual Layers - Mongolian Message Berlin/NY 02:20
Bazaar - Hebrew Message Jerusalem 03:26
The Last View - Armenian Message from Prague to up north 03:39
Graphic design: Zsófia Szemző
all music composed by Tibor Szemző
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